Patrice's Passion

by Tasha Hart

  His hands find my hips, and he begins to ride up into me, matching my rhythm and grinding us closer together. Fuck, this is good. Then, one of his hands fires down to where we meet, and he starts working my clit with his thumb.

  A jolt runs up through me, and I give myself over to his hands as I ride him. He’s pressing against me with his palm and fingers, forcing even more pressure around the cock that’s throbbing inside me. This shit is unreal.

  “God, Patrice. I’m…” He doesn’t have to say it. I can feel the spasming as he loses himself into me. That’s all I need, and I tip over him, shaking and coming so hard I think my spine will snap. His hand abandons my clit and joins the other one on my ass to pull us so tightly together, it’s like we melt into one.

  Even our orgasms sync up as one aftershock after another leaves our hot, damp, skin shuddering together. Sweat trickles down my back, and I almost want to sneak a peek at the clock to see how long that was. It felt like forever and an instant at the same time.

  When he’s asleep, I sit with the light coming through the window from the Asian bodega across the street. I just look at him on my pillow and wonder how the hell a car accident brought all this man into my bed. He’s handsome, fun to be around, and makes me cum like it’s the end of the world.

  Besides that, this dude really makes me laugh. Like, full-on laugh. I can’t remember the last time that happened for me. Certainly not with Jason, and I was with that son of a bitch for what feels like forever.

  Keep it careful, Patrice. There could be a lot more to this than just meeting up to fuck, and I have to be cautious not to fall too fast. But then, it feels like it’s already way too late.

  Eleven

  Chase

  I don’t remember the last time I showered in a bathroom that was neither in my apartment or the gym. It’s an oddly intimate experience. That feels funny to think of it that way after the bout of passionate lovemaking we had last night, but intimate is the only word that comes to mind.

  You can really get to know someone from what they keep in their shower. There are any number of lotions, soaps and products that are completely unknown to me. I take a certain pleasure in smelling each of them. I recognize Patrice broken down into individual components as I lather myself under the steaming hot water.

  The entire feeling of the bathroom is strong, while staying decidedly feminine. Even in her soaps, I can tell she’s an independent woman.

  Wiping a steak through the foggy mirror, I check to see if she’s left me any hickies last night. Thankfully not, but there were one or two moments where she was clamped so tightly to my skin that it seemed inevitable I’d wear turtlenecks for a year. Maybe I could even bring them back in style—unlikely as that is.

  Despite having left her sound asleep, I’m holding out a secret hope that she’ll walk in on me toweling off. Being late to the office is a near certainty already, so what difference would it make if I indulged in another hour or so of intense sex? Even if it got me in the doghouse, it would be worth it. I’ve never experienced anything like what Patrice and I shared.

  It’s probably far too early to think like this, but there may be more to us than the occasional night out, followed by a wild night in. She’s certainly not like any of the other women I’ve had parade through my life.

  I step back into the bedroom and see she’s still asleep. That’s probably better for my career, to be honest. There’s a pad on the counter, so I can let her know I didn’t just sneak out.

  Had to start my day. If you want to see me on my lunch break at 1, I could come to you.

  Thinking of you until then… Chase

  I stop just shy of drawing a little heart on it or something. Better to leave it as is. The last thing I need is to get her thinking I’m the kind of guy who leaves little doodles on notes all over the place. Though, after the way we keep tearing into each other, I think she’s got a pretty good idea of how I operate.

  Once I’ve been home to change, I manage to slink into the office without too much uproar. Feigning a business call on my cell certainly helps. Why haven’t I thought of that trick sooner? Probably because I’m almost never late.

  “Chase?” It’s Jason. I might not get away with this one after all. Time to sell this phony call. I hold up a finger and hope it doesn’t set him off.

  “Uh-huh,” I say to the nobody on the other end of the line. “Look, I’ve got to run. Can I get you the numbers on the specs for your account later? Great.” Mock hang up. “What’s up, Jason?”

  “Who was that?”

  “Silverlight. Their strategic meeting is Friday.” The last part was true.

  “Cool,” he nods. “What are the chances you can make lunch with the guys over at Priotek? Frank’s got them, but I’d really like to get your eyes on it.”

  “Today?” I put on my best I’m-so-busy face. “Lunch is spoken for.” Patrice hasn’t texted me yet, but I’m holding out hope. “Any chance we can push to tomorrow?”

  “I’ll call over.” He smacks me on the shoulder is off to his office. Glancing at my phone on my way to my office, I see her name on the screen.

  Miss you already. Lunch at the club?

  You bet your beautiful ass.

  When I get there hours later, she’s behind the bar with the accounting books in front of her. The look on her face as she goes over them isn’t exactly what I expected when I walked in to find her.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi!” Her face brightens when she looks up, and I can’t help beaming right back at her.

  “What’s up with the books?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she closes them up and shoving them to the side.

  “No, really,” I gesture at the accounting books. “You looked like you had been hit with a stick.”

  She leans forward on the bar, and I find myself wrestling with the impulse I always have to stare straight at her cleavage. You’d think after seeing her breasts in full, I might lose my fascination with her array of low-cut tops. No such luck.

  “Roslyn is looking for ways to cut down on overhead. She already let a server go, and she’s asking me if I can figure out how to tighten up bar stock. She gave me a budget number to try to hit.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “Pretty bad. We have to keep a certain amount of top shelf stuff for high-end clients, but to do that, I’ll have to cut so deep into the well, there’ll be practically nothing left.”

  “Why the cuts? Every time I’ve been in the place is packed.” She looks at me like I’ve just fallen off a truck from Montana.

  “You’ve been here on the weekends, sweetie.” She gives my hand a small squeeze. “To keep a place like this up with the rent in this part of town, we need to be doing that kind of hustle on a Tuesday.”

  “Well,” I say, “what’s the marketing strategy?” Her face is blank. “You know, print, online presence, subway ads, leaflets.”

  “We do leaflets.” She tries to sound helpful, but by the look on my face she can tell it’s not good.

  “What you need is an actual advertising scheme. There’s no use stocking a bar with top shelf stuff if nobody knows you’re here.”

  “Yeah,” her eyes are dim, “but how do we do that?”

  “You’re funny, you know that?”

  Her eyes spring to life again and snap up to me. “Why funny?”

  “Babe,” I say, “I work for a marketing firm.”

  Twelve

  Patrice

  It was jumping in the club last night, but that’s not why I’ve been flying high all day. Seeing a crowd like that was great, and I almost like slinging drinks when the bar is busy. Bartending isn’t anywhere near the kind of life I want forever, but seeing Roslyn succeed is what keeps me here.

  And, after what Chase and I talked about yesterday… I’m really excited to surprise her. I would never have asked him or his firm to lend a hand, but once he offered, we got right down to talking through some plans I think could really work. It’s invigoratin
g.

  Plus, if business picks up, tips pick up. If tips pick up, I can start socking money back to finish school and quit this job and really sit down and write. That’s the dream, anyway. I can’t help glowing over the thought of it. When the door swings open, and I turn to see Chase come in, my heart swells with the thought of everything that could lie ahead.

  “Hey,” I call, smiling from ear to ear.

  “Hey, Trice.” He barely looks up. What the hell is that about? From how heavily he’s walking, I can tell that something is way out of joint.

  “What’s going on, babe?”

  “I’ve got bad news.” He leans on the bar and looks at me, “The firm can’t take on the club.”

  My heart stops cold. “Why not?”

  “Jason. Everything has to go through him, and he didn’t even let me finish the pitch. He just shut me down.”

  “Because of me?” I can feel it in my guts, but I just have to ask. Chase just nods simply, his eyes on the bar. He doesn’t want to see what’s coming, and I don’t blame him.

  “That mother fucker!” All I want in the world is something to throw. The trouble with being behind a bar is that everything I can destroy cuts into the bottom line. And, we already know that’s a problem.

  “Where the fuck does he get off, shutting this whole thing down over me? Shit, it’s not even like I broke up with him! I fucking should have, but he’s the one who walked out for that skank, Clarissa!”

  “Easy, babe. We’ll figure something out.”

  “Like what?” He can’t think of a damn thing to say. “That’s what I thought. I’m gonna be fucking stuck here.” There are tears stinging my eyes, but the last thing I want to do is cry in front of Chase. Especially over fucking Jason.

  “Chase, I’m sorry.” He’s standing at the bar like I hit him. “I’m not mad at you, I’m just…”

  “I know. It’s okay. I just wanted you to hear it in person rather than over the phone.”

  “Thanks for that.” The bitterness still bites in the back of my voice. “It may not seem like it, but it helps.”

  “I understand. Anyway, I hate to do this, but I have to go. I’m supposed to be on my way to a meeting with a client. They are close to here, and I had to see you.” That softens me up.

  “Thanks, babe.” I lean over the bar and give him a kiss. “Call me tonight, yeah?”

  “Count on it.” He walks out, and I slump against the bar, fuming. Now that he’s gone, I can really let myself sink into anger over the whole thing. After all the shit Jason pulled behind my back—hell, in front of my face—a person would think he’d be dying to make it up to me. Instead, it’s like he dicks me over every chance he can find.

  My mind keeps drifting back to the last time I saw him. Of course, he would come here for his bachelor party. After not seeing me for the longest time, he had to come in here and rub it in my face that he was marrying that stupid bitch. And then, he just proves that if a man will cheat with a girl, he will cheat on the girl.

  All of a sudden, it hits me. I look wildly around to see cameras fanned out across the ceiling. Roslyn has a security system that tapes everything except what happens in the bathrooms themselves. It all gets stored on a hard drive in the office.

  I may not be able to find footage of him fucking that waitress we fired, but I can damn sure get the rest of the incriminating ass show.

  Back in the office, I log on to the system and scroll backwards to find the night. Given the ruckus they made, it’s not hard to skip along until the right time. The screen is broken up into little squares, so I just isolate the feed that was focused on the bathroom door.

  Sure as shit, there’s Jason’s philandering ass, following that stupid little bitch into the bathroom. How the hell does he keep tricking these women? It’s really tempting to watch the clock and time them, but I know from personal experience that he ain’t much. Nothing even remotely like what I’ve been getting lately.

  The video shows Levon going in and coming back out with Jason by the scruff of his rotten neck, dick hanging out and everything. Crystal even comes out yanking the bottom of her skirt down and tucking her titties back in. There’s even a date stamp on it. This is pure gold as far as I can see.

  It only takes a couple of minutes to rip the files and get everything edited into a tidy little clip. I even watch it a few times to feel the satisfaction of just what I have at my fingertips. There are so many places I could use this. Send it to his wife, to his shareholders, to the press. Any way you slice it, this looks profoundly bad for that sorry sack of shit.

  So, I guess now there’s only one question. Do I send it to his work email, or personal?

  Thirteen

  Chase

  “I don’t know what you’ve done,” Frank says leaning through my door, “but Jason is in a real mood.” My hair immediately stands up. He gets his ire up over pretty much anything, and anybody on the receiving end is bound to have a bad day.

  “He’s not asking for me, is he?”

  “You bet he is.” Frank gives his beard a scratch, “You might want to put on a cup.”

  “Great, thanks.” This is just what I need. I was so low after seeing Patrice at the club that I very nearly bungled the meeting with Wirehouse Publishing. I liked to think I saved it in the end, but if Jason is on the offensive, it’s probably because they called to complain.

  It’s not like me to get overly nervous, but I have to admit I’m sweating a bit. With the way he went after me over pitching Sistaz, it’s like I’m on his personal shit list at the moment.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  “Get in here. Close the door.” Funny, he doesn’t look angry, actually. For a darker skinned man, you would almost say he looked ashen. Anyway, he’s sweating so hard, his shirt sticks to him. “Sit down.”

  Jesus, I’m not getting fired, am I? Things with Wirehouse couldn’t possibly have gone that badly! Looks like I’m just going to have to grit my teeth and take whatever he’s in the mood to dish out.

  “What’s up?” My attempt at sounding upbeat fails completely.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you brought in here yesterday.” He’s being incredibly weird. Twitchy. Instead of looking at me, his eyes keep racing across his desk like he’s searching for something that isn’t even in the room.

  “You mean the club?”

  “Yeah, man, Sistaz, what the hell else did you bring in here, huh?” He slams his hand on the desk and looks at me for the first time. On instinct, my hands go up as if there’s a wolf in the room licking his chops at me. Jason sees this, and a look of embarrassment, bordering on shame, washes over his face.

  “I think the account has promise.” His tone is so calm, it’s like Mr. Hyde changed back to Jekyll right before my eyes. “It could look really good for us to help out a black-owned business. Give them whatever they want. Comp it.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Are you deaf?” Hyde is back again. “I want you to take Sistaz on personally. It’s your account, so don’t fuck it up. If you blow this, I’ll personally throw you out the window.” Jason laughs like it was a joke, but the laugh wouldn’t convince the casting director of a junior college play.

  “You got it,” I say. “I can get to work on it today.”

  “Fuckin’ right.” He waves me off and pushes things around on his desk in a pathetic attempt to look busy. I make it all the way to the door before I turn around.

  “I just have to ask, why the change of heart?”

  “What?” He looks like I’ve pointed a gun at him.

  “Yesterday, you practically tore my head off for even mentioning the place. What gives?”

  “Will you just get the fuck out of here and call them? I don’t have time for this shit.” The best I can offer him is a thumbs up. Frank is waiting for me about five steps down the hall.

  “How did that go?” He’s got that giddy look, like some kid ready to gloat over someone coming back from the principal’s office
.

  “I’ve picked up a new client.”

  Frank’s jaw goes slack. “Are you serious?”

  “Believe it, Frank.” I clap a hand on his shoulder. “When you’ve been here as long as I have, even the bad days can yield fruit.” It’s a lousy line, but after all the smug faces he’s pulled at me, it’s nice to get one over on him.

  Once my office door is safely closed, I immediately call Patrice to give her the good news. Given how volcanic she was earlier, I’m itching to hear her light up over the phone. It’s tempting to drive over to tell her in person, but I can’t wait.

  “Hello, Chase.” She sounds super cool. Almost sultry.

  “You’re never going to believe this Trice, but I’ve got some pretty great news.”

  “Do tell.” It’s like she’s got a secret or something.

  “Jason just called me into his office. We’re taking on the club, and I’ve got the go-ahead to give you the full treatment for free!”

  “That’s great, babe.” It’s odd, but she sounds completely sedate about it. Hardly even surprised, given how ugly things seemed just a few hours ago.

  “Aren’t you excited? This is just what we wanted.”

  “Oh, I’m excited, sugar. Of course, I am. If you wanted, you could come by the club tonight and we could find a way to celebrate?” Her invitation sends a ripple through me, but I can’t shake the feeling that something about the way she’s behaving feels like an act.

  “Alright,” I say. “I’ll call you in a bit?”

  “Better still, just come on by. Maybe I could let Aimee take the bar for the end of the night and you and I could head out on our own.” The words are so thick with provocation, I can feel myself stirring in my trousers. She’s got a magic way, this one.